


Nova

by lucidrush



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 10:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3647511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucidrush/pseuds/lucidrush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire, his bones felt like they were cracking, and his skin felt as if any army of insects marched beneath it, but within seconds, it was over. No more pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nova

With all the times he had come close to dying, Harry Potter thought that he knew what to expect. He'd laugh if the pain radiating from his chest wasn't so excruciating.   
Between the basilisk, the dementors, Nagini's venom, and that last killing curse less than an hour ago he expected it to be over before he could feel anything, if he was lucky, or the pain to ebb away as he slowly fell asleep. 

Nothing could ever be easy, could it? Voldemort had gotten one last curse off before he had been killed by his rebounded spell and it had caught Harry just as he caught the Elder Wand. 

A shimmering black bolt that tore through every layer of clothing like it was nothing and completely shredding the flesh on Harry's torso. The pain was so intense he couldn't even scream and with every heartbeat he lost more blood and agony lanced across his chest.

"Harry! It's going to be alright, Ron's gone to get help!" He felt someone press a cloth, probably a jumper, onto the ragged wound. The pressure stungs and made him feel light-headed.

He turned his head slightly, just enough to see his impromptu medic and through the flecks of blood on his glasses make out his best friend.

"Hermione?" His own voice sounds raspy and he can taste iron and bile.

"Don't say anything, Harry, I'm not going to lose you." She pressed a little harder on his wound, trying to stop the flow of blood while mumbling spells under her breath and waving her wand with her free hand. 

It didn't seem to be helping though as a fresh wave of boiling agony raced along his vains. Every muscle in his body clenched and he felt his mouth open in a silent scream as he screwed his eyes shut. 

Every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire, his bones felt like they were cracking, and his skin felt as if any army of insects marched beneath it, but within seconds, it was over. No more pain. 

"Harry?" Finally cracking open his eyes he looked towards Hermione again. She was sitting a few feet from him, her hands were caked in blood, his blood he thought with a wince, and her face was extraordinarily pale. 

"Hey, Hermione." It was little more than a whisper. Slowly sitting up, he ran his hands down his front, the skin there was whole and unblemished. 

"Looks like you were able to heal me with whatever that was." 

She slowly crawled towards him. Her shaky hand cupping his cheek.

"Is that...is that you?" She sounded like she was seconds from hysterics. 

"'Course it's me." He frowned, his voiced sounded different, a bit deeper. 

"Finite Incantatem." She flicked her wand towards him. 

"What's going on Hermione?" She repeatedly was swishing her wand back and forth, and around his head muttering spell after spell. She finally seemed to give up and plopped down onto her bottom.

"I...I don't know." She said after a moment and conjured a small hand mirror. "Just take a look."

Staring back at him was someone Harry didn't recognize. Very short, brown hair that seemed lightly spiked, grey eyes, lightly tan, and no scar adorned the features of this new person. 

Running his free hand through his hair, he let out a shaky breath, a little trail of golden dust escaping from his mouth before he clamped it shut. Reaching out to touch his reflection, he paused. There on the back of his hand, glowing gold was the mark of the Deathly Hallows. He threw the mirror as hard as he could, watching it bounce a little as it shattered in the rubble of the courtyard.


End file.
